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"Divine goodness!" cried the latter. "Behold what consoles me for all my deceptions! I have, then, at last made a discovery!" The honest man was raving. He looked at his fly in triumph. He would willingly kiss it. "But what is it, then?" asked Mrs. Weldon. "A dipter, cousin, a famous dipter!"
The chief agent, who shall be nameless, was drunk arid disorderly: it is astonishing that men of business can trust their money to such irresponsible beings; he had come out to Blackland a teetotaller, and presently his condition became a living lecture upon geographical morality. The night gave us a fine study of the Kinsembo mosquito, a large brown dipter, celebrated even upon this coast.
It was the tsetse, that dipter picked up by Benedict, the formidable tsetse under whose stings the animals of the caravans perish! Finally, it was, indeed, the roaring of the lion that had just sounded through the forest! And those forks, those chains, that knife of singular form, they were the tools of the slave-trader! Those mutilated hands, they were the hands of captives!
Benedict, what is this fly?" "This fly," replied the entomologist, "this fly that I hold between my fingers, this fly it is a tsetse! It is that famous dipter that is the honor of a country, and, till now, no one has ever found a tsetse in America!" Dick Sand did not dare to ask Cousin Benedict in what part of the world this redoubtable tsetse was only to be met.
"And one day, after being frightfully devoured by a dipter, he blew and sent it away, saying to it, without even using thou or thee: 'Go! the world is large enough for you and for me!" "Ah!" ejaculated Captain Hull. "Yes, sir." "Well, Mr. Benedict," retorted Captain Hull, "another had said that long before Sir John Franklin." "Another?" "Yes; and that other was Uncle Toby."
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